I only knew one thing and concentrated on that.
A GIRL WAS HOLDING MY HAND ...
That feeling would last with me the rest of my life. I would make sure of that.
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F U T U R E B A R R I E R ( The 2nd Novel ) Secret Technology, Unrequited Love, Absolute Vengeance
I recalled further incidents from my past back in the girl's bathroom with the abusive trio.
Seeing I was going to be difficult, the girls pulled both arms back behind me so I I cried out, but not just in pain, "My glasses ! Please don't flush my glasses ! My Dad'll kill me !" The bigger one grimaced and slapped them off my face where the plastic lenses bounced on the tiles beside the commode.
Then she growled at me, "Get in there !"
They then bunched up their hands against my back and neck and pushed me in as they held down the handle. It was the 2nd time that happened. There was a time before, only a few weeks earlier, but then but I really got hurt and bleeding and stuff cause I fought the two boys that did it to me, so I said to myself I was never gonna fight bullies again. Ever.
The girls were so crazy at it, one jumped up on my back straddling my shoulders to make sure I couldn't escape. I struggled to get loose as my hands were free now but I couldn't get my balance as I was more concerned with not getting water up my nose.
I gripped the wet bowl with my right hand and flailed the other one to my side, trying to push the girl off my back.
The timid girl standing to my left saw me reaching and squeaked angrily, "No you don't !" and grabbed my hand to hold it still against the tiles beside her. I relaxed at once at feeling her warm little hand against mine.
Immediately she let go, sensing a change in me, and then closed her hand gently around mine, cradling it wonderfully and kneeled to the right of me. They others were concerned I had drowned for a moment as they saw me suddenly paralyze in her grip and stopped laughing to look intently into the toilet bowl.
But then they rapidly realized that I was fine, by hearing my fearful breathing and that I just wasn't going to give them a hassle as long as she held my hand.
They all cooed delightedly seeing the sudden difference in my manner and started to bob my head up and down in the bowl giggling to themselves noticing my obvious weakness to her touch. I tried not to think about the torment the other girls were doing to me and instead concentrated on the delicious, warm feeling I had in my fingers cradled around hers.
I felt my right-hand grip loosen from the bowl and my fingers fell limp against the tiles as my brain thought only of the loving feelings of her warm grip. The fight was completely out of me.
Noticing this, they eagerly pushed my face down even deeper in the bowl, straining their little fingers to press me against the bottom, and my breath rasped and gurgled in the nasty flushing process when my mouth mashed against the bottom open hole.
They started screeching with giggles at the horrid sound I made and were showing renewed enthusiasm at the opportunity of abusing someone now that wouldn't even defend himself. I only knew one thing and concentrated on that.
A GIRL WAS HOLDING MY HAND ...
That feeling would last with me the rest of my life. I would make sure of that.
My hair and face were getting wet, I smelled something terrible near the bottom as my face was lifted up slightly so they could take my mouth from the opening, rotate my head, and then jam my nose down in there instead, and I heard the sudden rush of water and flushing sound, deafening in my ears.
But a GIRL was holding my HAND. That was all that mattered right now.
* * *
I thought very deeply on that ... It was only a few minutes and then the girl that was sitting on my back suddenly got off. They pulled back and shrieked in laughter expecting me to grab my glasses and run away bawling like a baby.
ALL except the girl next to me that held my hand.
I blinked my eyes away from the water and raised my head up for a second to look at her. I was still in a kneeling position over the bowl. She squeezed my hand again comfortingly and gave me a very pleasant smile. My mouth opened in awe at the sensual touch. While I was only 7 years old, I was smitten by her delicate grip on my hand now.
There was suddenly a murmur of confusion from the other girls for a moment, wondering why I hadn't run away in panic. Then someone from behind grabbed my neck and pushed me back in the bowl while yelling, "He wants more, obvimously !" and dunked me back in for more flushing treatment.
But I never pulled free of the timid girl's hand who apparently didn't partake in the abuse, she just wanted to see it, sitting, kneeling, comfortably to the side of me watching the expression in my face curiously in the bowl.
I turned my head slightly to look up at her as the water gushed around my right ear.
She opened her mouth in wonder and surprise, amazed I would put up with all of this nasty abuse for the mere sake of her holding my hand.
After a few times of this, one of the other girls, still seeing us holding hands, slapped mine free of hers. I started to cry loudly then, not being able to pull my mind away from the abuse they were doing and I was choking on the water besides as they weren't flushing as often now.
I felt the fight-or-flight reaction occur in the muscles in my legs, ready to run away, crying, my eye glasses be damned.
Apparently I was so loud enough that they pulled me out, raising my small frame to stand up outside the stall before my legs were even touching the ground and slapped me hard and painfully across my wet face to get my full attention.
The lemon-haired girl sneered down at me through my tears, "What's the problem, crybaby, don't you have enough sense to run away ! And what were you doing to Sharon's hand ? HUH !?"
There were tears in my eyes and I sobbed, "Holding it." although that wasn't entirely true, SHE was holding MY hand, and it made all the difference in the world to me.
The bigger one then spoke angrily thinking I was trying to get fresh with her, "What are you a perv, shrimp ? You LIKE what we were doing to ya !?"
I didn't know how to answer that so I didn't reply. My knees were shaking and I chattered my teeth from the cold water as my legs fought to stand up. My wet hair dripped and pattered onto the bathroom tiles. Though I did think for a moment, just WHO was the pervert here ??
There was a moment of silence. The nice girl went back to the side of the toilet to retrieve my wet glasses, splashed from the water, and then put them in my shirt pocket where they felt damp against my chest.
Then the redheaded pigtailed girl broke the silence speaking in a mocking babyish voice, "Are you a scared wittle baby and need your hand held ? Maybe you wanna baby bottle to suck on too HUH !?" and she stuck her thumb in her mouth making wet kissy noises around it.
The other girls, including the bigger one, guffawed out loud at the accusation. Sharon covered her mouth to giggle slightly. I looked to her, almost angry that she would find that funny after being so kind to me. But she tilted her head quizzically to me, wondering why I should ever be upset with her on something so obviously amusing.
"Well ... " I said realizing I had better say something at this point, but then I felt my face get red with shame. Finally I felt my voice crack and squeak as I spoke, "They're all scary."
The other girls said, "Awww.." when they realized that I was, in fact, afraid of ALL toilets, either flushing or not.
Sharon put a hand to her chest touched by my childish confession, and said timidly, "That's so swe -"
But she was interrupted by the bigger girl again before she could finish her sentence. "Awright crybaby lissen up ! As long as she holds your hand, we will do WHATEVER we want to you ! ANYTHING ! GOT IT !?"
I nodded dumbly. And like magic, the cute girl grabbed my hand again, apparently eager for me to agree. I looked down at my wrist and she rubbed it sensually with her thumb. I then peered up at her face, shocked at her forwardness, and she gave me that sweet sweet smile again.
I would go through anything - any abuse for this comfortable feeling.
Oh wow. So I've just dropped into the middle of this, and this chapter is incredible. The emotion of comfort and love and childish curiousity and bullying is so very realisitc that I was quickly vasilating from the boy's sorrow and horribly bullied life, to full on anger at the bullies themselves. And, even better, the fact that the main character is 7 emphasizes the reality of this so much more. His emotions probably aren't as clear as they would be when he's older, and yet they will be stronger, and more easily grouped as fear or affection, because he (probably) doesn't understand all the different shades of grey there are in emotions.
Anyway, great job (as always) and I hope to read more!
WW
Posted 9 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
9 Years Ago
It's always easy to write with clarity, WW, when you can pluck things out of your own past. To this .. read moreIt's always easy to write with clarity, WW, when you can pluck things out of your own past. To this day I still wonder what happened to Sharon - the girl who held my hand. And in the chapters to follow, you will see her again, perhaps. :)
Glad you're liking the story. :) I'll write a new chapter this Thursday, 2-days from now.
Oh wow. So I've just dropped into the middle of this, and this chapter is incredible. The emotion of comfort and love and childish curiousity and bullying is so very realisitc that I was quickly vasilating from the boy's sorrow and horribly bullied life, to full on anger at the bullies themselves. And, even better, the fact that the main character is 7 emphasizes the reality of this so much more. His emotions probably aren't as clear as they would be when he's older, and yet they will be stronger, and more easily grouped as fear or affection, because he (probably) doesn't understand all the different shades of grey there are in emotions.
Anyway, great job (as always) and I hope to read more!
WW
Posted 9 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
9 Years Ago
It's always easy to write with clarity, WW, when you can pluck things out of your own past. To this .. read moreIt's always easy to write with clarity, WW, when you can pluck things out of your own past. To this day I still wonder what happened to Sharon - the girl who held my hand. And in the chapters to follow, you will see her again, perhaps. :)
Glad you're liking the story. :) I'll write a new chapter this Thursday, 2-days from now.